Claim cAlIowed 



OLIVER P. PARKER 



Author of 

Tjhe Winning of Latane 

Vhe Call of the Flag 

fetter Than Gold 

^he Valedictory 

Lone Star 

Etc. 



Copyright, 1918, by 
Oliver Perry Parker 



All rights Reserved to 

The National Drama Co., 
Memphis, Tenn. 



Dear Friend : 

Here is another PARKER play tor your consid- 
eration. We place it before you on its merit, and 
in the sincere hope that you will find it good enough 
to be given a chance to "do its bit." 

There is no charge for examination ; but should 
you decide to produce the play it will l)e necessary 
fdr you to secure from us a Copyright Privilege 
License for each production. 

THE NATIONAL DRAMA CO., 

Memphis, Tenn. 



SPECIAL NOTICE. 

T.his play is fully protected by Uiiited States Copy- 
riglit with all rig-hts reserved to The National Drama 
Co., (Memphis, Tenn.), from whom a license uiust be 
secured for each and every production. 

Their charge of $5.00 covers License, a full set of 
p^rts for each character, coach copy and an exclusive 
reservation. They also agree to refund tlie $5.00 if tlie 
jiroduction is not entirely satisfactory. 

THE AUTHOR. 



'M I6|9/8©CI.D 48721 
See Order Blank in Back of Book. 



PS353I 

CLAIM ALLOWED 



^/)g\ 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Mr. LaFobl — Manufacturer of muiiitimis. 
Mrs. LaFolil— His wife, 
Diabney LaFolil — His patriotic son. 
K ]'rl LaFohl— His daughter. 
Lillian Marinen — Dabney 's fiance, 
'lorn Brudley — Ethel's jjatriot. 
Mr. Metz — An American-German. 
Mrs. Metz — His son's wife. 
Sherman Metz — His grandson. 
Mary Metz — His granddaughter. 
Mrs. Hohenzollern — A propagandist, 
lipine HohenzollerVi — Her 'brotbeo". 
Mrs. Thompson — Of the Red Cross. 
Little Seout — Doing his bit. 
Neb— A black bird. 
Students to fill. 

Time tc I'lay — Two hours. 

ACT L 

SCENE — Country estate of Horace I.aFolil near New 
\'ork, early evening. 

STAGE" SETTING— Table center; chairs right. left and 
Iiack; doors right and left; window back left. Other fur- 
nishings to show elegance and wealth. 

Neb — (L. fly swatter in hand. Looks about room, and lis- 
tening to humming off stage.) I sho kin heah er hoss-fly 
buzzin. (Business of slapping as if killing a fly.) Now he 
jes 'swell cum on out en lemme kill 'm, case he caint git by 
wid nuffin lack dat in dis house. (Buzzing stops.) Now 
Fse up agin it. I sho caint fine 'm ef he goin ter lay dade 
lack dat. He'll jes erbout staht dat buzzin foolishness ergin 
l)out de time Massar LaFohl gits hum, en den de debil '11 
be ter pay. (Buzzing starts up again. Listens and tips 
over to window, cautiously drawing curtains, swatter drawn 
to strike.) 

Mrs. LaFohl — (L.) What are you doing, Neb? 

Neb — Sh-h-h. Be quiet, missus. You'l make 'm stop 
l-.uzzin. 

^frs. h — O, I don't think so. He is at least a mile high. 

Neb — (Going right.) Wall, den. Ef he dat high, dat's 
alrat. But yer got ter ban it to 'm. Miss Eleanor, he am 
some buzzin lioss-fly. 

Mrs. L. — (Looking out window and up.) O, isn't that 
grand ! Just to sail out thru the blue heayens and breathe 
the pure air. It must be exhilarating. 



Neb — Yassam, missus, he sho got ter accelerate some ter 
put up er buzz lack dat. . ... But how kin you see er hoss- 
fly er mile high? 

Mrs. L. — It is no horse fly, Neb. It is a flying machine. 

Neh — You rekkin hit am one er dem German raiders? 

Mrs, L. — No. It is a Liberty Plane, and some mother's 
son is at the wheel. God bless him. 

Neb — En sen' him ter France. (Goes R.) 

Ethel— (R.) What are you doing with that swatter at 
this time of the year? 

jV^5 — Now. ter tell yer de truf, Miss Ethel, I been tryin 
ter swat er flyin machine. 

Ethel — Where is mother? 

Neb — At de window. (Ex. R.) 

Ethel — O, mother, look thru these glasses. That machine 
is painted Yale-blue, Dabney's college colors. 

Mrs. L. — (Looking.) And so it is. I do hope Dabney 
will not try to make that branch of the service. It is too 
dangerous. 

Ethel — He is not the sort to pick out a soft snap. 

Mrs L. — (Coming up and sitting left of table.) O, let us 
not talk of war. He has not been called yet, and if he is 
perhaps his father can arrange to get him exempted. 

Ethel — I do not want him exempted from doing his duty. 

Mrs. L. — You do not look upon war as I do, my child. 
I did not raise my boy to be a soldier. 

Ethel — You did not raise him to be a slacker, did you? 

Mrs. L. — Certainly not. But there are plenty of things we 
can do that will bring success to our arms without Dabney 
going into those horrible trenches. . Your father is selling 
war materials by the ship loads. That is helping some, and 
should be our share. 

Ethel — Of course he is ; but he is not doing it as a service. 
He is doing it for the millions he is getting out of it. 

Mrs. L.— Ethel ! 

Ethel — Don't be angry with me ; for I am speaking the cold 
truth. No man ever served his country and his greed for 
gold at the same time. 

Mrs. L.— You silly girl. Where did you get so much 
wisdom? 

Ethel — I do not know, mother, unless it comes to me thru 
the heartaches I have suffered because Tom will fight for 
France. 

Mrs. L. — Now dear, you must forget Tom.'^ He is only do- 
ing his duty. 

Ethel — That is why I can never forget him. And I am 
forced to send him away without so much as bidding him 
goodbye. Mother, it isn't right. 

Mrs. L. — Your father knows what is best for you, Ethel, 
and he has a right to say who shall share the great fortune 
he will leave you. 

Ethel — Unless my father's legacy includes Tom Bradley's 
love it can never make me happy. I know Tom is not rich, 
but he is better than that: he is noble and brave, and in spite 
of my father's objections he holds my heart in his hand. 



Mrs. L.—h is just because he is going to war that you 
feel that way. 

Hthcl — No, mother, I have loved .him all my life. This 
>acrifice he is making for me — and for you — only deepens 
that love, and makes me brave to declare it. When this 
dreadful war is over and Tom comes back to the country he 
has saved, won't you try to influence father in his behalf? 

Mrs. L. — I have never been against Tom. 

Ethel — I know you haven't. But I want you to be for 
him, as he is for his country. Won't you? 

Mrs. L. — Yes, I promise ; for I realize this war is coming 
home to all of us, and we must be brave and do what we 
can to win it.' 

Ethel — (Embracing her.) There, that is a good mother. 
I am perfectly willing to rely on that promise, and T know 
everything will come out right. 

Neb — (L.) Lawd, missus, dat Liberty l)ird done cum 
down rat squar in de golf links. 

Mrs. L. — (Going to window.) I wonder what that means 

Neb — Dat means . . . dat means . . . er . . . I'll 
jes go down en see whut dat do mean. (Ex. E. L. Neb 
goes R. meeting Mr. L. Takes his coat and hat and ex. R.) 

Mr. LaFohl — What is the excitement ? 

Mrs. L. — An aeroplane. 

M}\ L. — (Taking off gloves.) How many? 

Mrs. L. — Only one. 

Mr. L. — That is nothing. I closed a contract with tti» 
government today for five thousand of them. 

Mrs. L. — Five thousand death machines ! O. Horace it is 
terrible. 

Mr. L. — What is terrible? Two hundred and fifty thou- 
sand dollars profit? Huh. I should worry. 

Mrs. L. — But think of the poor boys who shall fly those 
machines, and those who shoot the shells your syndicate sells. 
What of them? 

Mr. L. — Let those who have sons in the trenches worry 
about that. It is for us to supply the necessities of war — at 
necessity prices — and make hay while the sun shines. 

Mrs. L. — There can be no sunshine, Horace, as long as 
the bravest and best American manhood must fight for lib- 
ert}' — for your liberty and mine, Horace. 

Mr. L.— Ho, ho I Ho, ho ! Ho, ho ! Liberty, eh ? Liberty 
lies in the power of money, my dear. And so long as we are 
rich, and fast growing richer, we have no cause to worry 
about the outcome of this war. 

Mrs. L. — What good will our millions do us if we lose 
this war? * 

Mr. L. — If the country loses this war we are not going to 
lose our money. You may trust me for that. It is the 
masses that will suffer — and it is up to the masses to fight 
for their existence. We will drop the subject of war. 

Mrs. L. — Have you seen the evening paper? 

Mr. L. — No, I have been too busy to read it. I am not 
concerned in all this war gossip, only in so far as it affects 
the mtirkets. 



Mrs. L. — (Handing him paper, indicating paragraph.) 
Read that 

Mr. L. — (Reading.) "The President will call another con- 
tingent at an early date." (Tosses paper on table.) I knew 
that five weeks ago. It means a contract for one hundred 
thousand more rifles, that is all. Let him call them. Every 
call means more business. 

Mrs. L. — And more men to die. More mothers to grieve, 
and more fatherless children to fight the long odds of pov- 
erty. To say nothing of the pitiful wail of the unborn. O. 
Horace, how can you fail to measure up to the great stand- 
ard this war has set up? 

Mr. L. — There is but one standard, my dear — the gold 
standard. And to that I am measuring up very satisfactorily. 

Mrs. L. — I grant you that you are, but you should not per- 
mit that to blind you to the great suffering and misery that 
is bound up in each and every fiendish implement of war 
your factory and brain can turn out. 

Mr. L. — I never allow sentiment to interfere with my bus- 
iness. 

Mrs. L.^-l should think the fact that your son will be in 
this next draft ought to cause you to feel a deeper interest in 
tiiis war, than merely to think of the dollars it means to you. 

Mr. L. — O, that is what you are driving at, is it? You are 
afraid he will have to go. 

Mrs. L. — Of course he will have to go. 

Mr. L. — Then why don't you get busy trying to save him. 

Mrs. L. — What can I do to save him? 

Mr. L — You can assist me in getting him exempted. 

Mrs. L. — On what claim? 

Mr. L. — There are a great many ways, but the most re- 
spectable one is for him to marry Lillian. All married men 
will be exempted. 

Mrs. L. — I love him, and my life would indeed be very sad 
ii he were taken from me; but 1 would rather grieve for him 
than feel that he Is a coward. 

Mr. L. — Then you want him to go to war? I thowght you 
loved him. 

Mrs. L. — Because I love him I am not willing to hide him 
behind a He. 

Mr. L. — Don't be a fool, Eleanor. Let this hero stuff go 
hang. There are plenty of boys to do the fighting without 
Dabney. I will take care of him. 

Mrs. L. — Then put your millions behind, and not in front 
of him; for a mother's intuition tells me he will want to do 
his share. 

Mr. L. — I least expected such sentimental rot in my own 
home. 

Neb — (R.) Er boy to see you, Mr. LaFohl. 

Mr. L. — Who is he? 

Neb — I done know, sah. 

Mr. L,— Say I am not at home. 

Neb — I done tole him all er dat, en he say he am er Boy 
Scout, e» dat he got er message fum de President l«r yer. 

Mr. E: — Ah! Perhaps that is another war order. I will 

6 



see him. (Ex. N. R.) This is the greatest time for making 
money the world ever saw. (Scout, R., hat in hand.) 

Mrs. L. — Good evening, Httle man. 

Scout — I am not a man ; I am a Boy Scout. 

Mrs. L. — Well, that is the next thing to it. Won't you be 
seated ? 

Scout — Not while you are standing. 

Mr. L. — (Going to chari beside him.) O, you dear little 
darling. Did you come alone? 

Scout — Yes, ma'am. My daddly has gone to France to 
fight for me, and I want to sell Mr. LaFohl some Liberty 
Bonds. 

Mr. L. — Is that your message from the President? 

Scout — Yes, sir. He wants you to help my daddy fight 
for you. 

Mr. L. — Well, I don't think you could interest me today. 
You run along down to Mr. Jones'. I think he will help you 
out 

Scout — He bought yesterday. 

Mr. L. — Then try Mr. Dickens and Mr. Smith. Have they 
bought ? 

Scout — Yes, sir. Now you buy one. 

Mrs. L. — Do Horace. 

Scout — I bought one. 

Mr, L You are just wasting your time, sonny. I am not 

going to buy any bonds today. Run along home now — it is 
getting late for little fellows to be out. > 

Scout — I am not scared. I am working for my country. 

Lillian — (R.) Good evening, everybody. 

Mr. L. — Why howdy Lillian. You are the very fellow I 
want to see. 

L. — That is good. Why hello little Scout. 

Scout — Won't you buy a bond? 

L. — Buy a Liberty Bond? You bet I will. I am a liberty 
girl. Give me your blank. (Scout gives her blank and 
pencil. As she writes he offers one to Mr. L.) Be a man. 

L. — How much are you putting behind the boys, Mr. 
LaFohl? 

Mr. L — Why, ah ! — I have not decided yet. 

L. — (Giving paper.) Here, you little hero. That will be 
mighty small compared with Mr. LaFohl's, but it will do its 
bit. 

Scout — Thank you. Goodbye. (Ex. R.) 

L. and Mrs. L. — (Nearly together) — Goodbye, dear. 

L. — fen't he a dear. Even the children are patriotic. 

Mr. L. — Do you think that small child knows what patriot- 
ism is? 

L. — I know he does. (Sits.) 

Mr. L. — How do you know it? 

L — By the way he showed it. I love him for it, too. 

Neb — (R.) Missus, er 'oman ter see yer. Am yer at 
hum? 

Mrs. L. — Where is her card? 

Ne}>-V\\ ax her dat. (Ex. R.) 

L. — (Laugh.) I wish we had a good old negro Hke Neb. 



Mr. L. — You may have him. 

Mrs. L. — Not while I live. He is clumsy and never learns 
anything, but he is the link tliat binds me to my South-land. 

Neh — (R.) Nuffin doin', missus. She say she resents de 
Red Cross. 

Mr. L. — Make excuses, Eleanor. 

Mrs. L. — I have none to make. 

L. — Certainly not. It would be small indeed not to -show 
her every courtesy. 

Neh — Den you am at hum? 

Mrs L. — Very much. Show her in. 

Neb— (To Mr. L.) You heard whut dey said. (Ex. R.) 

L. — (Opening her bag.) I hope she can help me with my 
sweater. You see I belong. 

Mr. L. — Lillian Carmen! Ho, ho, ho! I pity the fellow 
who has to wear what you could knit. 

L. — He may need your pity, Mr. LaFohl, before this war 
is over. 

Mrs. Thompson — (R.) Is this Mrs. LaFohl? 

L. — (Going to her quickly.) Why how do you do, Mrs. 
Thompson. So glad to see you. Mrs. LaFohl, this is Mrs. 
Thompson, president of my chapter of the Red Cross. 

Mrs. L. — (Taking her hand.) I am very glad to know 
you, Mrs. Thompson. This is my husband. 

Mrs. T. — How do you do, Mr. LaFohl ? I have known you 
good people for twenty years but if this war had not come 
upon us I suppose I should have died without meeting you. 

L. — (Laugh.) How many years did you say? 

Mrs. L. — (Same.) She said twenty. 

Mrs. T. — And I might have said thirty. I am no spring 
chicken, my dear. Mrs. LaFohl, I came to invite you to join 
the Red Cross. I know every mother is deeply interested in 
our boys at the front, and will want to have a part in mak- 
ing them as happy and comfortable as possible. 

Mr. L. — It will suit Mrs. LaFohl better to pay money for 
her part. She has no time to spare for the work. How 
much do you wish to give, Eleanor? 

Mrs. L. — Mrs. Thompson has judged me correctly. I wish 
to give service. You may donate the cash. 

Mrs. T. — I am not soliciting funds. Another branch t>f the 
Red Cross will gladly receive any cash you may wish to give. 
My work is to solicit service — loving service that will show 
in every stitch a proper love and devotion for those brave 
boys who have crossed the sea to meet the enemy ; and those 
thousands of others who shall soon follow them to the last 
trench. Just a sweater will do, or a pair of socks — just so it 
shows that you love your country and the brave boys who 
defend it with their lives. If you have no son in the 
trenches, hundreds of thousands of other mothers have, and 
the most we can do for them is quite too little. 

Mrs. L. — Mrs. Thompson, nothing is further from me 
than the thought of failing to do my duty to the Red Cross, 
for I regard the organization as worthy of the best any wo- 
man can give. You may count me a member and depend on 



me for whole hearted service. I meant to join with Ethel, 
but was prevented. 

Mr. L. — Is Ethel a member of the Red Cross ? 

Ethel — (L., sweater in hand.) You bet I am. I am no 
slacker. Hello, Lillian. Hello, Mrs. Thompson. How is 
that for the first one? (Shows sweater.) 

L. — That is grand. 
' Mrs. T. — One of the best I have seen. You finished it in 
a hurry. 

Ethel — When love is in the stitches the needle flies. No 
brave American soldier shall feel the bite of discomfort and 
neglect if my love and admiration can warm and steel his 
heart. 

L. — Good for you, Ethel. (All but Mr. L, applaud.) I 
am with you heart and hand. Isn't that right, Mr. LaFohl? 

Mr. L. — For a bunch of sentimentalists you do very well. 

L. — Sentimentalists ! 

Mr. L. — That is what I said. This war is a stern business 
proposition, and you women seem to think it can be won with 
tears. When peace comes and the people return to their 
senses they will place the honor where it belongs — on the 
capitalists who have financed the deal. We are the men who 
are in reality behind the guns. 

Mrs. T. — We are not contending for credit or honor, Mr. 
LaFohl. We shall be content to do our duty, and leave the 
praise to take care of itself. But if we should have any- 
thing to do with bestowing the credit I am inclined to believe 
we shall vote for the soldiers at the front. (Rising.) 
Goodbye, Mrs. LaFohl. I am glad to enlist you as a mem- 
ber. We meet tomorrow at three. 

Mrs. L. — (Going out R. with Mrs. T. and Ethel.) You 
may depend on me. 

Mr. L. — Lillian, I wish to discuss a very important matter 
with you. 

L.— (Knitting.) What is It, Mr. LaFohl? 

Mr. L. — You are the ,only person in the world who can 
prevent my son from going to war, and I think it is your 
duty to do it. 

L. — My duty! 

Mr. L. — Exactly that. You and Dabney are to be married 
in about eight months. That will be too late. If you love 
him, urge him to marry you at once, so that he can claim 
his exemption. 

L.— Would that be right? 

Mr L. — Certainly. Not only right, but a very plain duty. 

L. — Then it is my duty to prevent your son from doing his 
duty. Is that it? 

Mr. L. — O, Lillian, come now. A man's first duty is to 
be true to himself. 

L. — Quite right. But that implies that he must first be 
true to his God and his country. 

Mr. L. — O get that rot out of your head, Lillian. I am not 
accustomed to being defeated, and I do not propose to let 
a lot of silly women defeat me now. 

L. — Now, Mr. LaFohl, I have nothing to do with your 

9 



plans only insofar as they affect my own conduct. So far 
as Dabney is concerned, I can* only promise you that I will 
not seek to influence him in any way. 

Mr. L. — Please leave off your knitting and listen to me. I 
I am not joking about this matter. Why do you waste your 
time on this work when you could take a few dollars and 
buy a much better sweater than you can possibly knit in three 
months ? Besides if you women would not supply these 
things my syndicate could handle them at a handsome profit. 

L. — We do it because we love to touch the things, that will 
be worn by the grandest army in all the world, and because 
it affords us the opportunity to weave into'jthese stitches our 
love and unending prayers that God will give us the victory. 

Neb — (L.) You am wanted on the long distance, Mister 
LaFohl. 

Mr. L — Don't leave until I see you again. 

L. — Very well. I am in no hurry. I can knit here just as 
well as anywhere. (Ex. Mr. L. L.) 

Ethel— {R.) All alone? 

L. — Yes, and tending my own knitting for once in my life. 

Ethel — Where is father? 

L — At the long distance telephone in the library. 

Ethel — Did you bring me any word from Tom? 

L. — He sails tonight for France. 

Ethel — Poor Tom. He has neither sister nor mother to 
bid him Godspeed in God's cause. 

L. — Are you going down to say goodbye? 

Ethel — No, it would displease father. I shall just send 
his sweater and a note. He knows my heart is witft him. 

L. — It is a shame that you cannot see him before he goes. 
You may never see him again. 

Ethel— O, Lillian. (Weeps.) 

L. — I can sympathize with you, dear ; for I shall soon make 
the same sacrifice. We must trust the good God to take 
care of His own. 

Ethel — I do, Lillian, but it is hard to send Tom away like 
this. 

L. — H you wish to send him a message I will take it for 
you. 

Ethel — Thank you, dear. I will write a note and send it 
in his sweater. (Ex. L.) 

L — (Hurriedly takes up telephone directory and looks up 
number. Calling.) Two-0-Seven-Nine, Hemlock, please. 
Is Mr. Bradley in? — Tom, this is Lillian Carmen. Come at 
once to Birdwood — O, I know all about that — yes — yes — You 
must — Don't argue with me. I will send my car down for 
you. Yes. Come at once. (Hangs up receiver. Neb, R.) 
Neb, tell my chauffeur to go at once to the Kimberly apart- 
ments and bring Mr. Bradley here. 

Neb — (Nervously.) Lawd, Miss Lillian, you'se playin wid 
fiah now. 

L. — I know what I am doing. 

Neb — Yassam, but Mister LaF©hl done tole Mister Tom 
not ter cum heah no mo. 

L. — I will be responsible for that. Do as I tell you. 

10 



Neh — Yassam, yassam. But I caint promise ter be roun 
heah when he cum. (Ex. R.) 

Mr. L. — (L.) I have just been talkins;- to Dabuey's club 
at Yale, and have some good news for you. He left for home 
this afternoon. 

L. — Did they tell you how he was traveling? 

Mr. L. — Why do you ask that? 

L. — I promised not to tell. 

Mr. L — Come Lillian. What is the joke? 

L. — It is no joke at all; it is a secret. 

Mr. L. — Then I shall call back and find out for myself. 
(Ex. L.) 

L. — When he learns that Dabney has been a member of 
the flying squad for four months, and is now a professional 
flyer, he will tear the top of the house off. 

Dabney — (R. briskly, dressed as aviator.) Hey, nobody 
home? 

L — (Meeting him, hands extended.) Dabney! 

D. — Why, Lillian. How lucky to find you here. How are 
you? 

L. — Just fine. How did you enjoy your trip? 

D. — O, it's grand. My new Liberty Motor is all that could 
be desired. Has father received the bill for it yet? 

L. — He hasn't mentioned it. 

D. — (Laugh.) Then he hasn't received it. 

L. — No, I think you have him completely in the dark. And 
I think he is going to be a bit stubborn about letting you go 
to the front. 

D. — Dad will be all right. Just give him time. 

Mr. L. — (L.) Why hello, son. I thought I heard that 
voice. 

D. — (Meeting him.) Hello, father. 

Mr. L. — How did you get here so quickly ? They told me 
you left Yale only two hours ago. 

D. — I came across country — or rather I should say across 
the sky. 

Mr. L. — (To. L.) And this is the secret, is it? 

D — And say. Dad, that new. Liberty Motor you are build- 
ing is a hum-dinger. I got one of the first ones and named 
her Betsy Ross. She is now gracefully roosting over on your 
golf links. 

Mr. L. — Betsy Ross the devil! What do you mean? 

D. — Simply that I am a full-fledged aviator, and you will 
hear from Betsy Ross later on. 

Mr. L. — Are you thinking of sending her to France? 

D. — No. I am thinking of TAKING her to France. 

Mr. L. — I see. You think there is no chance for you to 
be exempted. 

D.—l hadn't thought of that. 

Mr. L. — Well, my boy, you need not be afraid you will 
have to go. Lillian and I will look after that. You run 
along up to see mother. 

D. — I didn't mean to throw such a fright in the camp. I 
forgot to tell you I have been examined. 

Mr. L. — Examined ! 

11 



/;. — Yes — and found '"not physically fit." 

Mr. L.— (Pleased.) By Seorge ! That is good. Why 
didn't you tell me that at first? 

£)^ — (Seriously.) Because I thought you would be sorry 
to know it. 

Mr. L.— Anything is better than war. Is it your lungs? 

D.—Don\ be alarmed. It is only a slight defect. A few 
months in Colorado will mend it all right. I am on my way 
there now — Betsy Ross and I — and I hope to get some prac- 
tice in flying over the mountains. I am anxious to get built 
up so I can "join the boys and help them hock, H-O-C-K, der 
Kaiser. See you in just a minute, Lillian, (Ex. L.) 

Mr. L. — My God! What does that boy mean? Lillian, 
girl, his life is in your hands, and I am depending on you to 
save him. 

L.— Mr. LaFohl, if I should undertake to influence Dabney 
to abandon his plans to do what he knows to be right it would 
cost me his respect. 

' Mr^ L. — You think all this is patriotism — whatever that is. 
I tell you it is rubbish. 

L. — Do you think so? 

Mr. L. — T know it. And if you will put him to the test 
you will find I am right. 

L. — To show you how utterly small your patriotism is I 
accept the challenge. If he agrees to marry me and hide be- 
hind my skirts he is not fit to be an American soldier, and 
I will do all in my power to help you keep him at home- 
where he belongs. 

Mr. L. — ^Now you are talkinsr sense. I knew I could de- 
pend on you. He is coming. (Goes L.) 

D. — (L.) Father, do you think you" will be able to manu- 
facture those motors as fast as we will need them? 

Mr. L. — I will answer that question when you have talked 
to Lillian. (Ex. L.) 

D. — (Laup-h.) What have you got to do with it? 

A. — (Standing behind chair.) Sit here and I will tell you. 

D — (Sits.) Very well. To obey my superiors was my 
first le<5=:on. 

L. — Then listen to me. 

D. — (T ooking at her.) I am listening. 

L. — (Tilting his head.) Don't look at me. 

D. — That is more fun than hearing you tajk-^ 

L. — But you must do as I say. 

jy — All right. Go ahead, graDhoohone. 

L. — I want to talk to you seriously. 

D. — Then come around and look me in the eye like a man — 
Ah, like a woman, I mean. 

L. — Dabney, really I want you to be serious. Don't you 
think that as your fiance I have first claim on you? 

D.—l do. 

L. — Then I ask you to give my claim precedence over that 
of your country and marry me at once, and let me shield you 
from danger. Will you do it? No true man neglects himself 
for others. (Waits.) Why don't you say something? 

12 



D. — Lillian, you have misjudged me. Has my conduct 
ever been such as to cause you to feel that I am a coward? 

L. — If you forsake me now I shall always know you for 
what you are. I give you one more chance. Will you dis- 
appoint me? 
. D. — We are both disappointed. One in a coward, and the 
other in what he thought a true heroine. (Rising.) I ask 
that you release me from all my promises. ■ 

L — Then you do not love me. 

D. — If I did not love you, Lillian, how could I be willing 
to lay down my life for you? O, you do not understand. 

L. — Your answer is no? 

D. — If you ask me to stand idly by and witness a horde 
of organized criminals dismantle our beloved statute of Libel 
erty, and parcel out amongst themselves the fair women of 
France and Belgium, and later those of my own country — 
including you, Lillian, and my own sister and mother — then 
my answer must be no. I shall fight for you as long as I 
have strength, and trust you to accept it as a proof of my 
love. 

L. — God bless you, Dabney. I knew that would be your 
answer. Forgive me dear. 

D. — What does this mean? 

L. — I have been acting a bitter lie because your patriotism 
was questioned by your father, and I wanted to show him 
that you are true as steel. 

D. — I arn ashamed of my father's position. I hope you 
will forgive him. 

L. — He will be all-right. And when he does throw him- 
self into the struggle his power will be felt. He is only 
one of a great many men who have not yet realized that we 
are facing a crisis. 

D. — That is the pity of it. Such blindness when the 
world's best blood is being fed to swine is despicable. And 
if my father is guilty, God forgive him, for I can't. 

Neh — (R) Er — Miss Lillian, (sees D.) Wall, bress mah 
life, ef it ain't Massar Dabney. Whar you cum fum ? 

D. — I just dropped down out of the heavens. 

Neb. — Didn't yer lack it up dar? 

D. — Oh, yes. It is very fine. 

A^^^. — Den whut yer cum back down ter dis vale er tears 
fur? 

D. — To get some gasoline. 

Neb. — Wall, I be durn. Den you'se found one place whar 
de Standard Oil ain't de whole show. 

L — You don't understand. 

Neb. — No, chile; I don't understan'. He say he been up 
in heben, en he ain't got no wings. (Rubs him on back). 
Didn't yer suit 'm up dar? 

D. — I suppose not. 

Neb. — En yer had ter do all yer flvin' on superficial gas? 

£>.— Yes. 

Neb. — Wal, what yer goin' ter do when de gas gibs. out? 

L. — Don't be sacrilegious, Dabne^^ 

Neb. — No-no-no. Fur de Lawd's sake don't. 



D. — I didn't mean to be. I thought he knew it was I who 
was flying over the place \h.\.s, afternoon. 

Neb. — ^^Wus dat you? You sho was up in de air dat time 
—I alius said you wus er high flier — Er, Miss Lillian, I 
clean fergot whut I cum for. I got somepin ter say ter yer 
PRIVATELY. 

L. — Has my chauffeur returned? 

Neb. — Yasam ; dat's it. En he say — er — er — he say fer 
yer ter cum on ; he's tired er waitin'. 

D. — Such impudence ! 

L. — It is Tom. Ethel does not know he is coming. 
. D. — Good for you. I am glad there is one person in this 
house who is not afraid of my father. 

L. — You go and entertain him while Tom is here. 
__D. — I would like to see Tom, 

L. — Neb, show him in. 

Neb. — Yassam. En den I'se gwine ter git under er moun- 
tain. (Ex. R.) 

L. — I will send Ethel and stand guard while Tom is here. 
(Ex. L.) 

D. — (Crossing to R., meetine T. at door If he is in uni- 
form he comes to attention and salutes) — Heloj Tom! Come 
in ; you are welcome. 

Tom — I did not expect to hear that in this house. 

D. — I know you didn't, but so far as I am concerned 
it is quite true. The home that does not admit and wel- 
come a soldier in the American army is not .worthy of 
him. I understand you are under orders to sail. 

Tom — Yes, I must report within the. hour. 

D. — (Smile) — Then I am wasting some valuable time. 
Etel wanted to see you, and so Lillian and I ordered you up. 

Tom — That was good of you, old man. I appreciate it. 

D. — Not at all. I will tell her you are here. (Ex. L., 
Tom crossing to extreme R.) 

Ethel — (L. Sweater on arm). — Oh, Tom; I am so glad 
you came. (Gives both hands). 

Tom. — I hope you will forgive me for coming over your 
father's protest. The opportunity offered me was more than 
I could resist. 

Ethel — I am glad it was. It was dreadful for m© to think 
of you going away without my seeing you again. When do 
you sail? 

Tom. — Tonight. 

Ethel — I want to know the exact hour and minute. 

Tom — I cannot tell you that . 

Ethel—Why not? 

7'om — Orders. 

Ethel — Oh, these dreadful war orders. Tom I do hope you 
will soon be back home again. And I promise you there shall 
be nothing to prevent me from seeing you as often as you 
wish. 

Tom — Little girl, that promise holds a world of happiness 
for me. 

Ethel — You will surely come back, Tom, and I shall make 
that promise a living fact. Here is your sweater. Making it 

14 



for you has been the sweetest labor of love I have ever 
known. Every stitch is shrunk and reinforced with prayerful 
tears ; and I hope it will warm your body as my yearning love 
goes out constantly to warm your noble heart and keep it 
strong and true. 

Tom — Thank you, Ethel. I shall try to show myself wor- 
thy of your gracious love. I have no one but you to fight 
for, so if I never return you may say that my last drop of 
blood was spilt for you and the flag. My time is up and I 
must say goodbye. (Offers hand.) 

Ethel — Goodbye, Tom. (Biting her lip.) Goodbye, Tom. 
(Breaks down and cries on his shoulder.) 

Mr. L. — (L.) Tom Bradley! How dare you come into 
my house again? 

Ethel — Father, for my sake. 

Mr. L. — For your sake! 

Ethel — Yes, for my sake. I love Tom and it is no fault of 
his that he is here. 

Mr. L — Then whose fault is it? 

L. — (L.) If it is anybody's fault it is mine. Mr. LaFohl. 
I bade him come. 

Mr. L. — And by what authority do you bid guests to my 
house ? 

L. — I do not need authority to be decent. 

Air. L. — Let decency be damned. This is my house and 
I propose right here to determine who shall run it. Tom- 
Bradley, leave my house. 

Ethel— F^iihtv ! 

Mr. L. — What! You dare defend him in my presence? Go 
to your room instantly. 

Ethel — I will not leave Tom. 

Mr. L. — Then choose between that pauper and me ; and 
know that if you choose him I shall surely disinherit you. 

Ethel — Please listen to me. 

D — (L.) What is the matter here? 

Mr. L.— Stay out of this, Dabney. 

L. — Because she will not drive Tom away as if he were a 
dog, your father insists that she choose between him and 
Tom. It is not right. 

Tom — Dabney, I am very sorry this has occurred. 

Mr. L. — Then mend it by getting out. 

Tom — Mr. LaFohl, I may be sorry I came, but I have no 
idea of running away. You have asked Ethel to choose be- 
tween us, and as she must some day make this choice it 
might as well be now. 

Mr. L. — I agree with you. Let her make her choice, 

Ethel — Then if I am driven to choose between a soldier and 
a slacker — even though the slacker be my own father, I must 
choose the soldier. (Takes his hand.) Your fortunes shall 
be my fortunes, Tom, and until you return I shall follow the 
Red Cross and make my home in the heart of the nation. 

Mr. L. — Then both ofi you leave my house. I never want 
to see your faces again. (They ex. R.) 

/.. — O, you unfeeling Hun. I would rather be a dog under 

15 



the Kaiser's meanest table, than to be you with your heart- 
lessness. Dabney, did you heap what I said? 

D. — Father you are wrong. 

Mr. L. — Are you against me, too? 

D — I am not against you, father; but I am utterly ashamed 
of you. 

Mr. L. — Then you shall this night choose as Ethel did. 
Either you stand by me, or fall by yourself. Renounce that 
woman (Pointing to L.) or I shall renounce you. 

L. — It is up to you, Dabney. And hesitation will be the 
most forceful speech you could employ. 

D. — Father, if you ask me to renounce Lillian because she 
is brave enough to stand by my side and in the face of your 
littleness point out my duty to me, I must decline. 

Mr. L. — O, son, be sensible. I can keep you out of this 
war. Just leave it in my hands. I can get your claim al- 
lowed. 

D. — For God's sake, father, lift your eyes and look on the 
Star Spangled Baftner trembling in the face of a bestial horde 
who seek to pierce it through with blasphemy, and turn its 
glory into a contemptuous relic of a despot, and know that 
there can be but one claim on me — the claim of my flag. And 
so far as I am concerned that claim was allowed yesterday 
when I volunteered to follow the Stars and Stripes to the 
ends of the earth. 



QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 



SCENE 1 — Farm home in Colorado, ten days later. 

STAGE SETTING — Same as Act I, except less elegant, 
and used American flag on back wall. 

(Mr. Metz seated right of table center reading paper, and 
smoking large pipe. Mrs. M. left of table knitting. Mary 
left rolling bandages.) 

Mary — What is the war news, grosspapa? 

Mr. M. — O, dare iss nuddings much. Dey haf stop talkin 
now, und are gedding ready to do somedings. But it vont 
pe long pefore ve vill read de papers mit interest. 

Mary — Do you think all of our boys will have to fight ? 

Mr. M. — I know dot dey vill. Und I vish I vas a young 
man. I vould help dem. 

Mrs M. — Would you really go, father, if the government 
would take you? 

Mr. M. — You bet I vould. It iss de only vay to pring 
peace to de vorld. Dis isg de free country for peace und 
liberty, und vare everypody does as he pleases to do right. 
Dot iss vy my fadder cum here, und dot iss vy I vas porn 
here, und dot iss vy it is home to me. 

Mary — Airs. Hohenzollern says you are a traitor. 

Mr. M. — Veil, de Hohenzollerns may feel dot vay about it. 

16 



Mary — And a lot of girls say because we have German 
]>lood in our veins we are not Americans. 

Mrs. M. — Do not listen to such talk as that my child. 
Just ask the next girl who says such a thing to you whether 
>he has a father on the firing line beside your father. 

Mr. M. — Und dell her dot de blood vot runs in your weins 
has also rurl on de battlefields of your country. Und dell her 
— No don't dell her nuddings. Schoost make bandages. 
(Buzzing back.) 

Mrs. ilf — (Listening.) What is that? 

Mary — (Going to window back.) O, mother, it is an air- 
ship. And it is coming down. 

Mrs. M. — O, I hardly think so. (Goes to window.) 

Mary — O, goodie, goodie. Look. Now what do you say? 

Mrs. M'. — Why, it is an aeroplane. (Knock on door R.) 
Come in. 

Mrs. HohenzoUern — (R, followed by Heine.) Goot eve- 
ning. 

Mrs. M. — Howdy do, Mrs. Hohenzollern. Did you see the 
aeroplane? 

Mrs. H — O, dot iss nuddings. Germany is full of dem. 
(Sees Mr. M. at window back.) Veil, Gustav Metz ! It iss 
luck to find you here. Ven did you cum? 

Mr. M. — Schoost yesterday. 

Heine — Vare iss Sherman? 

Mrs. M. — He has gone for the cows. (Lays her knitting 
on table.) You will find him out this way. Please excuse 
me, Mrs. Hohenzollern, it is time to milk the cows. 

Mrs. H. — Dot 's all right. I prefer to schpeak mit Herr 
Metz anyvay. 

Mrs. M. — (Going L.) Come Mary. (Ex. L.) 

Mary — (Laying her work on table.) I wish we had a 
milking machine. (Ex. L.) 

Mrs. H. — Bitte lassen Sie uns Deutsch sprechen. 

Mr. M, — No, fraulein, ve vill speak English. 

Mrs. H. — So. Veil, vot you tink of de var? 

Mr. M. — I tink ve petter not schpeak on dot subject. 

Mrs. /-/.—Und vy? 

Mr. M. — Pecause I understand you lif in America und 
fight mit your tongue for Germany. 

Mrs. H. — Sure. Dot iss right. Don't you? 

Mr. M. — No, I fight for de country vot I lif in — vare I 
haf lifed all my life — und vare I haf made all my money. 
Dis iss home to me, und a man vot vill not fight for his home 
iss no man at all. 

Mrs. H. — How much money you make here? 

Mr. M. — Fifty tousand dollars. 

Mrs. H. — How did you make it? 

Mr. M. — Honestly. 

Mrs. H. — Und vot good vill dot money do you ven de gov- 
ernment vill dake it all avay from you? 

Mr. M. — If he dovernment dake vot I got it vill haf to 
conwiscate dot. (Produces folded paper.) 

Mrs. //.—Vot iss dot? 

17 



Mr. M. — Dot iss a fifty tousand dollar Liberty Pond. 
(Lays paper on table.) 

Mrs. H — Gustav Metz ! You pay fifty tousand dollar for 
dot wortless scrap of paper? Vy you trow your money avay 
like dot? 

Mr. M. — Pecause I vant to play safe. You call dot a 
vortless scrap of paper, but I dell you, fraulein, a United 
States Pond will be wort vot its face calls for as long as de 
church bells ring. 

Mrs. H. — Church bells? Ha. Vot vill Germany do mit 
your church bells? 

Mr. M. — Veil — I dell you vot I tink. It vont pe long pe- 
fore ve vill need dem bells to call Germany to Sunday 
School. 

Mrs H. — You dink so? 

Mr. H. — Und den she vill go back to de days of Goethe uud 
Schiller, und pe de grand old Fadderland yet. 

Mrs. H. — You are a traitor, Gustav Metz. How mudch 
you get for it? 

Mr. M. — If you vill put on a pair of pants und ask me 
dot, I vill dell you. 

Mrs. H. — Don't be insulted. You must be gedding some- 
dings for it. 

Mr. M. — I am gedding somedings for it. No man ever 
shtood py dot flag (Points to flag) und lost. 

Mrs. H. — Und so you sit round under dot thing und fight 
your fadder land. Shame on you, Gustav Metz, undil you can 
say mit me "Deutschland, Deutschland, uber alles, uber alios 
in der Welt." Ged od de vinning side, Gustav, vile you can. 
If you follow dot rag you vill lose ; und den ven Germany 
dake dis country you vill be schtood oop against de vail, und 
shot as a traitor. Dot's vot you vill. 

Mr. M — Ven Germant dake dis country dere vont pe any 
vails to schtand opp mit. Dot's my flag, fraulein. My two 
brudders schleep mit dot flag in Gettysburg. I followed dot 
flag mit Grant to Appomattax. Dot iss vy my sleeve iss 
empty. (Holds out empty right sleeve with left hand.) 1 
gif my good right arm for dot flag, und I am not afraid to 
follow it now. You are young, fraulein, und you haf much 
to learn. (Knock on door R.) Cum. 

Dabney — (Followed by Neb, who notes the German ac- 
cent with surprise.) How do you do, sir. Are you the 
head of this house? 

Afr. M. — De head of dis house iss my son, und he iss at de 
front, sir, fighting mit his country. I vill dell his vife you 
haf cum. (Goes L.) 

Mrs. H. — (Going L.) I vill find Heine und dake him home 
mit me. (Ex. L.) 

Mr. M. — Schoost make yourself at home, fraulein. (Ex. L.) 

Neb — (Business glances left and to D.) Massar Dabney, 
am yo rat sho dat am not de Kaiser? 

D. — I don't think so. 

Neb — Wall, dat done altify how I feel about it. We went 

18 



up in dat flyin machine dis mawnin, en heah we is done lit 
in Germany. 

D. — Don't you see that flag? 

A^^&— (KneeHng.) O flag of Mr. Linkum! Ef yo eber 
specs ter do anything fur dis ole nigger, yo better do it now. 

D. — We are still in America, Neb. 

Neh — (Rising.) Wall I ain't so sho bout dat. Eber since 
I ben flyin wid yer I aint knowed whar I wu'^, ceptin dat we 
wuz jes curclin roun wid de burds en clouds. En I done 
know whar we done lit. 

Z}.— (Producing gun.) Well, "being lit," we must make 
the most of it. 

Mrs. //.— (Off L.) Heine, O Heine. Wo bist du? 

Neh — Dah, now. Didn't I done tole yer? 

D. — Tell me what? 

Neb — Dat we is rat squar in de middle er Germany. 

D.—O, I don't think so. 

jsj^l, — Wall, I duse. En as er man thinkcth so am he. 

Mrs. H. — (Off L.) Heine komm zu mir. Wir wollen nach 
Hause gehen. 

Neb — O, Lawd, boy. Less- us fly erway fum heah. 

Z).— Not yet. 

Neb — Rat now. We aint had ernuf trainin ter meet de 
conditions dat mought easily arise. 

D. — You wr.uldn't run away and leave your flag, would 
you ? 

Neb — O, no, no, sah. We guin ter take dat wid us. 

D, — I thought you were going to be a brave soldier. 

Neb— I WERE— but dat wus when I thot we wus goin ter 
light oomewhars in de Nunited States. . . . En ef I 
hadn't er thot yer could stop dat Liberty motor afor she 
went eround de world I'd er nebber cum up wid yer in de 
fust place. 

D^ — (Laugh.) And you think we have crossed the ocean:' 

Nct'^-^^n I knows rat when we done it. Done yer member 
when I axed yer whut dat blue thing wus? 

D. — Yes. I remember that. And I said it was a big 
Kansas wheat field. 

Neb — Dat's whut yer said, but dat want no Kansas whee- 
ficld er tall. Dat wus de ocean. 

/).— (Hearty laugh.) 

Neb — (Seriously.) I done see v/hut you la f fin bout. Ter 
me war am a serious preposition. 

D. — You make me forget that it is. 

Neb — I tell you, Massar Dabney, I en you has sho ober- 
done de thing dis time. 

D. — Well, what are we going, to do about it? 

7V"(7& — I s'gest dat we crank up dat Liberty burd en migrate. 

/), — I suppose if you are going to be a coward I had just 
as well take you back home. 

Ar^6— (Hurriedly and going R.) Come on, boy. (Off left 
in genuine mammy fashion, singing — "Swing low, sweet 
chariot. Comin' for to carry me home.") 

Neb — (More Comfortable.) Now dat altifys de situation. 

19 



(Voice same.) Lawd, Miss Jennie, dat good-fur-nuffin 
black rascal aint brung in dat stovewood yit.) Massar Dab- 
ney, ef we is in Germany we is below de Mason and Dixon 
line. . . . Jes you hole de fote, whilst I reconnotter en 
fine out whut dat is makin dat noise. I bet yer fo bits her 
name am Care-line. (Goes out right.) Mr. Metz in loud 
voice off right, "O, Marie, pring grosspapa de Berliner 
Tageblatt." (Business of rushing back to D. and looking 
right and to D.) Young man, dis sho am er convulsion uv 
events. . . . Er angel at dat do, en de debil at dat'n, 
D — I advise you to go to the angel. 

jV^^ — Alrat. (Going L.) But de fust time yer hears dat 
German grunt, you come quick, en come prepared. (R.) 

D. — It does look a bit as if we won't be welcome here. . . 
Red Cross knitting! That is assuring. . . . And bandages 
for the wounded. ... A fifty thousand dollar Liberty 
bond for Gustav Metz. . . . What! All this here where 
the very air is split with gutterals? And above it all a battle 
scarred Red White and Blue. . . . Ha, I agree with Neb. 
This is a "convulsion of events." 

Mrs. M. — (L.) Do you wish to see Mrs. Metz? 
D. — Yes. (Hands card.) Please say it is a matter of 
business. 

Mrs.- M. — (Reads card and extends hand.) I am pleased 
to meet you, Mr. LaFohl. 

D.—O, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Metz. I expected to see 
ah , . . ah — 

Mrs. M. — (Smiling.) A big fat German lady. 
D. — At least a German-American. 
MrS' M. — And instead you see an American-German. 
D. — That is a very nice distinction, Mrs. Metz, and it en- 
courages me to tell you I have been accepted for service in 
the aviation department provided I can build up my breath- 
ing a. bit. That is why I am in the west. I have been flying 
over the country today seeking a suitable place for practice 
work, and was attracted by the large fields surrounding this 
house. I think it would be an ideal place but I hesitate to 
ask the privilege. 

Mrs. M.— Mr. LaFohl, my mother was a daughter of the 
Confederacy; my father, whom you met, was a captain in 
the Union army; my husband is now at the front in France; 
my boy is a scout, and my little girl made those bandages. 
Don't you think it would be a pleasure to mg^to grant the 
privilege you ask? 

D.— Forgive me, Mrs. Metz. I apologize for doubting it, 
and thank you very much. I have money to pay liberally for 
a place to stay, and I hope I may find one close by. 

Mrs. M.— Our school teacher has been drafted, and leaves 
tomorrow. You are welcome to his room until we secure 
a man to take his place. 

D.—A man to take his place? Let me do that. I thmk 1 
am competent, and I would be glad to do the work as long 
as I am here. 

Mrs. M. — Then you may consider yourself at home. I 
will speak to the board in your baha-lf. 

20 



Neb — (L.) Massar Dabney, I think I'd lack ter stay roun 
heah. (Sees Mrs. M.) Er — er — er — 'sense me, missus. 

Z).— That is an old servant my mother sent along to take 
care of me. Could it be arranged for him to stay too? 

Mrs. M. — He will have to speak to Caroline about that. 

Neb — (Bowing low.) Thank yer, missus. I think I kin 
trade with Carry, alrat. (Starts L. meeting Mrs. H., who is 
talking, and gives her plenty of room.) 

Mrs H. — Veil, I can't find dot poy anyvare. 

Neb — (Looking L.) Is dat boy er yorn got light hair? 

Mrs. H. — Yaw. Dot's my Heine. (Neb flinches.) 

Neb — (Same.) Wall. I tink I see 'm comin now. 

Mrs. H. — Veil dell him to hurry. 

Neb — Taint no use. He am comin lack er house erfire. 
Clear de track. (Enter Heine left, crossing and hiding be- 
hind Mrs. H. extreme right. Hair disheveled, sleeve torn 
and right eye blacked. Mrs. M. crosses to left, meeting and 
restraining Sherman, who is breathless. Dabney center. Neb 
exit L.) 

Mrs. H — Vot iss de matter, Heine? You run avay from 
dot boy ! Vy dont you lick him ? 

Sherman — Let him come. 

Mrs. M. — (Restraining him.) Sherman! 

Mrs. H. — (Holding Heine behind her.) Dots right. Hold 
him pack. 

Mrs. M. — Mrs. Hohenzollern, I advise you to take your 
brother home. 

Sherman — Don't let him go until I make him salute this 
flag. (Holds out small torn flag.) 

Mrs. H. — Salute dot rag! Schpit on it Heine. 

Sherman — Please do. 

Heine — Schoost you vait. 

Sherman — I am waiting. Do it and I will smash your 
spitter all over your face. (Starts for him.) 

Mrs. M. — Stop Sherman ! I must ask that you leave my 
house. 

Mrs. H. — Und so you dare to stand dare under steek of 
red candy (points to flag on wall) und inzult me! 

Mrs. M. — '(With a smile.) The time is not far off when 
you will be glad to get that "stick of red candy" to suck 
your lemon through. 

Mrs. H. — (Mad.) Gott und Himmel ! I vill tear it down 
myself. (Starts for flag.) 

Mrs. M. — (Stepping in front of flag, hand uplifted.) Stop! 
Touch that flag and I will scratch your eyes out. (Points 
to door.) Leave my house, I say. 

Mrs. H. — (Leading Heine out R.) Schoost you vait. 
Schoost you vait. (Ex. R.) 

Mrs. M. — Mr. LaFohl, are you disgusted? 

D. — Disgust and admiration never go together. Who is 
the hero? 

Mrs. M. — He is my son. Sherman meet Mr. LaFohl, the 
owner of the flying machine. 

D. — (Taking his hand.) Glad to meet you, Scout. You 
have the right sort of stuff in you. 



Sherman — And that is your flying machine? 

D.—Yes. 

Sherman — Then here is your flag. Heine tore it from 
your machine. And that is why I blacked his eye. 

D — Thank you, Sherman. I am sure we shall be great 
friends. 



CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

SCENE 2 : Same. Four months later. 

Mary — (Pinning rosebud on Dabney seated center. Kisses 
bud.) That is the first flower that has bloomed. I give it 
to you 'cause you are going away today. 

D. — Thank you, Mary. I have been hoping you would 
give me your photograph; but this is better. It is just like 
you, Mary, pure and innocent and beautiful. And its little 
soul, rejoicing under the ripening sweetness of the kiss you 
gave it, shall reappear to me in each succeeding generation of 
roses to remind me of my little Mary of the West. 

Mary — Do you love flowers? 

D. — ^Yes, but I always feel clumsy with them; for I believe 
God created flowers for pure little girls like you, and that 
He smiles every time He sees you together. But I can at 
least pledge you by this one always to hold woman's honor 
above suspicion, and fight for it as long as I live. 

Mary— My daddy is fighting. Do you think he will be 
killed? 

D.—l do not know, dear. But if he should be you must 
hide your bitter tears in the sweet comfort of knowing that 
by that sacrifice you hold a bloodright in the glory of your 
country.. I shall soon join him and help him fight for you. 

Marv— (Shaking fist.) Just fight 'm hard. 

D. — ^We will. Just you wait and see. 

Neb — (R.) Massar Dabney, Fse thu wid de packin. 

D. — Did you leave the heavy sweaters out? 

Neb— Y3.ssdir. En I done filled Betsy Ross full er gas- 
oline. 

D. — How about the oil? 

AT^t— Plenty er dat. too. Whut time do we fly. 

D.—At ] o'clock. We must reach the first aviation camp 
by night. Does that give you plenty of time to say goodbye 
to Caroline? 

Neb— I aint guin ter say goodbye. I'se jes guin ter say res- 
ervoir, en take mah chances. (Ex. R.) 

Mrs. M.— CL. with paper.) I have just been reading a 
very interesting article in this paper on Horace LaFohl of 
New York. Is he related to you? 

D.—Ue is a distant relative. What has he been doing now ? 

Mrs. M. — You should be proud of him. He has given the 
government full control of his great plant for the full 
period of the war. 

22 



y> — Thank God for that. He is my father. 

Mrs. M. — Your father! 

D. — Yes, and you do not know how happy I am to know 
he has done this thing. When I last saw him he was blind 
to every sense of his duty and seemed to care only for the 
profits that factory was making him. I did not tell you be- 
cause I was ashamed of it. 

Mrs. M. — And you were going to the war against his 
wishes ? 

D. — Yes, and at the expense of being disinherited by him. 
But it is all right now. Mrs. Metz, you have been good to 
me, and I am deeply grateful. I hope you will come to New 
York and meet mj^ mother. 

Mrs. M. — I like to know mothers of boys like you, and I 
liope I may have the pleasure sometime. It has been a great 
pleasure to have you in our home. I hope you will not for- 
get where we live. 

D. — I do not think I could ever forget a country that has 
given me back my life, and a home that has raised my ideals 
of life. And when this war is over I hope to be able to re- 
turn here with a little girl who is waiting for me. 

Mrs. M. — God grant that you may. You would not ac- 
cept your salary as teacher of our school, so the patrons 
have subscribed this five hundred dollars, and ask that you 
accept it as an expression of their good will and apprecia- 
tion for what you have done for their children. (Offers 
check.) 

D — I accept this with deep gratitude, and beg to donate it 
to the children's playground. (Gives check.) 

Mrs. M. — Thank you. It will make them very happy. 
(Looking R.) They are coming now to say goodbye. 

(Children off right start up America and advance on stage 
singing. Let them form circle from deep left to right front. 
Those who are on program forming in straight line in cres- 
cent. Mrs. M. & D. left front, and joining in song. One 
verse will do.) 

Mrs. M — Mr. LaFohl, the children have prepared a short 
program in honor of your leaving. Have you the time to 
hear them? 

D. — Nothing could please and honor me more. 



For this part of the program let pupil furthest from Dab- 
ney advance and face between him and audience. Then the 
next etc. until the last, Mary, is reached. Give her the pres- 
entation speech. For the others use such readings or songs 
as your local expression teacher thinks best. We suggest 
Declaration of Independence, Washington's Farewell Ad- 
dress, Lincoln's Gettysburg Oration. President Wilson's Dec- 
laration of War, or Flag Speech. The best musical talent in 
your ^^own may be employed in this scene in their own se- 
lections of patriotic songs. Of the old ones "THERE'S 
MAGIC IN THE FLAG" is good. Finish the program with 
Mary advancing to Dabney with small package wrapped.* 

Mary — We have selected this gift for you because we be- 
lieve it is the best thing in all the world, and one that will 

2.3 



be most highly prized by you. (Gives package.) 

(Dabney unwraps it. Orchestra playing Star Spangled 
Banner. He takes it out and* holds out on his arm. The 
children salute and sing — one verse. Voices behind scene, 
and the audience may join. A very good effect here may be 
had by turning off all lights and playing dim spot on flag, 
growing brighter and merging with full light at end of verse.) 
D. — Children, if my resolve to stand by this flag and see 
to it that the millions who have died for the right shall not 
have died in vain, lacked anything, you have supplied it. You 
have given me a death-defying resolve to bear it thru the bat- 
tlements of the skies until its sweet message of peace and 
good will toward men shall be felt throughout the earth. And 
I swear by every star upon it never to give it up, and to 
give my life if need be, to keep it floating o'er the land of the 
free and the home of the brave. If I do not bring it back 
to you I shall be brought back in it. Goodbye.^ Above all 
things remember this : Seek to know what is right, and do 
it, and stand by the land God has given you as long as you 
live. 



QUICK CURTAIN. 



ACT. III. 



SCENE — Same as Act I. One week later. 

Lillian — (R. to Mrs. LaFohl, who is standing at window 
back, weeping.) Now there you are weeping again. You 
promised me you would not let Dabney see you in tears. 

Mrs. L. — Lillian, it is impossible. (Coming up.) 

L. — I know it is hard, but for his sake we must be brave. 
I think we do wrong to send our soldiers away under a 
shower of tears. Don't you think it would be better for them 
if we appear less distressed? 

Mrs. L. — Perhaps so ; but it may be beyond my power to 
do that. Have you any word from Dabney since he arrived? 

L — He telephoned me to meet him here at seven, and I 
think I hear him coming now. (Goes R. meeting Scout.) 
Why good evening, little Scout 

Scout — Did Mr. LaFohl send for me? 

Mrs. L. — Yes, dear. He has been looking exerywhere for 
you. Sit down. 

Mr. L. — (L.) Hello, Lillian. Why, there is 'my Scout. 
(Shakes hands.) I have been trying to find you for a 
month. 

Scout — What is the matter? 

Mr. L. — About four months ago when you asked me to 
help your daddy fight, and I told you that you couldn't inter- 
est me, you said "Be a man." Do you remember that? 

Scout — Yes, sir. 

Mr. L. — Well, I have sent for you to thank you for those 
three little words— "BE A MAN." They have been ringing 
in my ears ever since, and I thought it would please you to 
know that I am a man. I want you to turn in my subscrip- 



tion for a million dollars worth of your Liberty Bonds. 

Scout — (Whistles.) That is what I call a real man. 
(Takes blank from pocket and goes to back of table and 
writes. Mrs. L. assisting.) 

L — Mr. LaFohl, once I called you an "unfeeling Hun !" I 
have regretted it a thousand times, and now I am ashamed 
of it. 

Mr. L. — You were right, Lillian. I was not conscious of it, 
but I was an "unfeeling Hun." And if it had not been for the 
patriotism of my own household, including you, I might still 
be one. But I am awake now to the urgent need of my coun- 
try, and I ask only to be permitted to undo the beastliness 
I showed in the beginning. 

Scout — (Folding paper.) Thank you, sir. This will give 
me the prize. 

Mr. L. — You deserve one. Where do you live? 

Scout — I don't like to tell you. 

Mr. L. — I want to know. 

Scout — I am staying at the Orphan's home until my daddy 
comes back. 

Mr. L. — The Orphans' Home! And your daddy fighting 
for his country ! My God, what a slacker I have been. 

Mrs. L. — Where is your mother? 

Scout — She is dead. 

Mr. L. — Won't you Ije my boy until your daddy comes 
back? 

Mrs. D — (Going to him.) Do dear. Let me be your 
mother. I love you already. 

Scout — I'd Hke to. I will write daddy and ask him about 
it. 

Mr. L. — (Going L.) Come into the library and we will 
both write him. (Ex. L. with Scout.) 

Mrs. L — I hope it can be arranged for him to stay. He 
would be such a somfort to me. 

Neb — (R.) Wall, missus, I'se back. 

L. — Why, it's Neb. Where is Dabney? 

Neb — O, I fotch him back alrat. 

Mr. L. — (L.) Why didn't you "fotch" him back here? 

Neb* — He went up to headquarters ter git made into er 
lieutenant. 

L. — O, isn't that fine! 

Mr. L. — When did you arrive? 

Neb — W^e riv at de navigation camp bout two hours ago. 
En dey tole us we done hung up two records — one fur speed, 
en one fur distance. Massar Dabney kin out-fly er bullet. 

Mr. L. — That is going some. 

Neb — (Excited.) Man erlive 1 Yer aint seed no goin ontil 
yer gits in behind dat boy er yorn. ,He kin do de sky-rocket, 
de plumb-bob, de cork crew, en de shine ball ter perfection. 
Yassar. He kin round up er bunch er clouds en make 'm 
rain fiah en brimstone. En he. say de nex time he cotch 
out at night he guin ter roost on er moonbeam. Yassar. 

Mn. L. — Ho. ho 1 Ho, ho ! Ho, ho ! Let me know when 
he comes. (Ex. L.) 

Mrs. L. — Is Dabnev well? 



Neh — Yassam. He got er chist spansion uv five inches. 
He sho am ready fer de fracus. En when er bunch er men 
lack Massar Dabney gits ober in dat Flanders country dem 
Germans guin ter think de stars am fallin. 

L — Did you have any trouble on the trip? 

Neh — Not er bit. Ceptin once we got cloudbound. 

Mrs. L. — Cloudbound? 

Neb — Yassam. But dar want nuffin to dat. We jest 
jammed into a bunch uv 'm, but afore I knowed it Massar 
Dabney he done plowed thu 'm. En den I los mah hat. 

L. — Where were you when you lost your hat? 

Neh — Now, Miss Lillian, I disremember whuther dat wuz 
Oklahoma or Pennsylvania. All I knows is dat de las time 
I saw it, it wuz headed fur somewhere in de United States. 

L. — You have had a big time, haven't you? 

Neh. — I sho has. We has done el)rythino anybody eber 
heard erbout — en some things dey neber will heah erbout — 
he-he-he — onless Massar Dabney tells it. En I'se not skeered 
er dat. But de best one we got is de pattage act. 

L.— 'Tattage Act," what is that? 

Neh — Aint yer neber seed er pattage fly of'n her nes, en 
tumble erlong jes lack she guin ter quit? Wall, dat's it. En 
dem Germans guin ter think deys got him, when he jest 
playin pattage wid em. (Mrs. L. weeps.) Dar, now, Fse 
done made missus cry. I better go. (Ex. L.) 

L. — Now, Mrs. LaFohl, Dabney will be here in just a few 
minutes, and you must not forget to appear bright and 
cheerful. 

Mrs. L. — Can there be anything bright and cheerful to the 
awful picture Neb has drawn — m}'- brave boy wounded and 
fluttering to earth behind those fiendish German lines, be- 
yond the kindly touch of a human hand? 

L. — You must not think of him as alone. Think of him 
as one of a great army of brave boys backed up with 'the 
tears and prayers and wealth of the greatest nations on 
earth, fighting for the right. 

Mrs. L. — But think what will happen to those who may 
be taken captive. 

L. — Germany will pay dearly for any mistreatment she 
gives an American soldier. But we must not anticipate the 
gloom. We must think always of the time when our sol- 
diers shall return with a victory that will insure peace and 
liberty to the whole world. 

Mr. L. — (With Scout.) And just as soon as yeu hear from 
your father, come and let me know what he says. 

Scout — I surely will. Goodbye. 

Mr. L. — Goodbye. I will meet you at the bank tomorrow 
at ten to pay for my bond. 

Scout — I'll be there. (To the Ladies) : Goodbye. 

Mrs. L. & L.— (Nearly together.) Goodbye. (Ex. S. R.) 

Mr. L. — (Looking at watch.) I wonder what is keeping 
Dabney ? 

L. — He said he would be here at seven. 

Mr. L — It is five minutes after that now. 

L. — (To Mrs. L.) Have you packed his things yet? 

26 



Mrs. L. — (Rising.) No, I must do that now. 

L. — I want to put this package in. 

D.— {R.) 'Lo, folks. 

Mrs. L. — (Rushing to him.) My boy! I am so glad to see 
you. (Kisses him.) 

D. — Hello, Lillian. (Shakes hands.) How are you? 

L. — Just fine, Dabney. My! You are looking well, 

D. — I feel it. How are you, father? 

Mr. L. — Glad to see you, son. I was afraid they would 
not permit you to run out and say goodbye. 

D — I barely did get to come. We are under orders and 
I. must report back in just a few minutes. 

Mrs. L. — What shall I pack for you? 

D. — There is a list. I cannot take more than that. 

Mrs. L. — (Going L.) I will have it ready in just a few 
minutes. 

L. — Let me help you. (Ex. with Mrs. L. — L.) 

D. — (Smiling.) Well, father, have you managed to get my 
claim allowed yet? 

Mr. L. — Yes, my son. And with yours mine also, I am 
no longer a traitor to my country. 

D. — You a traitor! Why father, how can you say that? 

Mr. L. — It is hard to say, but when I look back over my 
position in the early days of this struggle and realize that I 
had no higher ambition than to coin my country's necessity 
into my own selfish gain, I cannot feel any other way about 
it. I am heartily ashamed of it, my son. 

D. — Such shame as that denotes a patriot. And I am glad 
I can go into this struggle feeling that you are behind me; 
for a SOLDIER LOVES THE ENEMY HE SEEKS TO 
KILL BETTER THAN THE MAN WHO WOULD SHARE 
HIS VICTORY WITHOUT A PART IN IT. 

Mr. L. — I am sure that is true. And I shall have a part 
in this great victory. That is why I have placed my factory- 
in the hands of the government. Every dollar I have is be- 
hind you, and my heart is in the motor of the plane you will 
find awaiting you in France. 

D. — Am I to fly in my own machine? 

Mr. L — The best that money can buy, and I pray God it 
may bear you safely to victory. 

D. — Father, I realize I am going into the very jaws of 
death, and may never see you again. If not, I hope some 
comrade will tell you that I went bravely to the end. 

Mr. L. — I have no doubt of that. My agent in Paris has 
been instructed to advance you any amount of money you 
may need. Draw on him freely and see that Tom Bradley 
has the very best of attention while he is in the hospital. 

D. — Is Tom wounded? 

Mr. L. — Yes. But he will not die if my money can save 
him. I have cabled full instructions as to that. I want him 
to get well that I may treat him as the man he is. And poor 
Ethel ! 

D. — Where is she, father? 

Mr. L. — Somewhere in France. I don't know. God for- 
give me. Find her, son, and convince her that life is all bit- 

27 



terness for me until I know she forgives me. Tell her to 
write to me ; and don't forget to write often to mother. 
Goodbye. 
D. — Won't I see you again? 

Mr. L. — I shall try to see you at the station; but, if not, 
take care of yourself, and live right. 

D. — (Still holding his hand and looking him bravely in the 
eye.) Goodbye, father. (Ex. Mr. L. slowly R.) 

Neh — (L. carrying two suit cases.) Heah am yo war duds. 
I'll go pack mine en be ready in jes er minit. (Starts L.) 

D. — Why, you can't go, Neb. 

Neh — Wall, whut I ben doin all dis trainin fur ef I caint 
go en see it thu? 

D. — You are too old. You would be in the way. 

Neh — Caint yer range it no way fur me ter go? Ef yer 
gits hut I wants ter be wid yer. 

D. — No, Neb, I can't take you. 

Neh — Fse powerful disappinted — case I ben figurin as how 
I'd be de onliest blackbird in de air. Lemme go, Massar 
Dabney. I aint er goin ter git in nobody's way 'slong *s I'se 
on a plane wid you. 

D. — Your devotion raises you to a plane in my heart that 
some men of whiter skin have never reached. 

Neh — Den lemme go. 

D. — It is impossible. You must stay home and take care 
of mother. 

Neb — Alrat. I ben entertainin dat sweet angel all er her 
life; en I sho aint er goin ter fail her now. En ef we gits 
word dat you am dade I'se guin ter try ter make her think 
dey's jes foolin her. 

D. — That is the idea. Take my suit cases to the car, 
please. And goodbye. (Offers hand.) 

Neh — (Cleaning hands on trousers.) Goodbye, Massar 
Dabney. Be keerful en done yer bump into Jupiter Pluvi- 
mus. When yer gits back we is guin ter fly ober ter see 
Care-line. (Ex. R.) 

L. — (L.) Dabney, do you think you will get back by the 
fifteenth of October? 

D. — The fifteenth of October ! Our wedding day. I hard- 
ly think so, Lillian. This is sure to be a long bitter fight, and 
I want to be in at the finish. 

L. — I want you to be, dear. Our marriage can wait on a 
victory of our country. So if it pleases you we will post- 
pone it until that day. I think I would like to be married 
in Berlin anyway. 

D. — Then so shall it be. The time, when our flag is in 
Berlin ; and the place, unter den Linden. I feel confident I 
shall meet you there. 

L. — If not, Dabney dear, the rest of my life shall be a 
hideous blank. Go and do your duty, and leave all things 
in the hands of God. (Enter Mrs. L. — L.) If He demands 
your life count it little, and be glad your heart is big enough, 
and your sense of duty deep enough to find honor and com- 
fort in the sacrifice. Goodbye. 

28 



D. — That is a lot for me to promise you ; but as my 
strength so shall my effort be. Goodbye. 

L. — You good and brave and true boy. Surely the dear 
God will preserve you and give you back to me. Goodbycr 
dear. (Kisses him and goes out right.) 

D. — (Turning to Mrs. L.) Mother what is there about 
a good woman's love that so enobles a man's heart and makes 
him feel a bit worthy of the image of his Lord? 

Mrs. L. — I do not know, son, unless it is because her love 
is unselfish. Why do you ask me that? 

D. — Because it seems to me that you ought to know — that 
you know everything. 

Mrs. L. — I know only that there are depths in a woman's 
heart that can be reached by none but the bravest. You are 
leaving me tonight, and somehow I feel that I am giving you 
up. I promised to be brave and not send you away under 
a shower of tears ; but already I see that is going to be hard 
for me. 

D. — If anyone has made you feel that your tears would 
make it harder for me to leave you I want to correct the 
error. I know that you love me very tenderly, and that your 
dear heart is breaking. So do not restrain your tears. It is 
the tears of good women that shall crystallize into piercing 
shrapnel and win the world back to the right. There are 
hundreds of thousands of mothers' sons in France tonight 
dreaming of tear-dimmed eyes, and as they dream their 
hearts grow stronger^ and their duty becomes clearer and 
clearer. And by and by we shall go over the top and make 
the world safe through our mothers' tears. (Kisses them 
away.) God bless you, mother, and give me strength to re- 
member these bitter tears and never rest until we have 
stamped from the face of the earth the power that is blind 
to the misery and suffering it is inflicting upon the world. 

Mrs. L. — My boy, do you feel that if you should die your 
soul would rest in peace? 

D. — Yes, mother. I have that assurance. 

Mrs. L. — Then trust God. He will take care of you. (Sits 
center.) You are a big brave soldier, but tonight my heart 
cries for you as when you first lay in my arms. You will 
always be just my baby boy to me. Won't you kneel here 
at my knee and let me pray for you? (Dabney kneels. She 
places hand on his head and lifts eyes) : 

Dear God, I give my boy to save the flag; 
I pray Thee, Lord, he may not lag. 
If he should die in foreign land, 
I pray Thee, Lord, to hold his hand. 



CURTAIN. 
ACT IV. 



SCENE: A glimpse behind the front line at the gates of 
Berlin. Two years later. 

STAGE SETTING: Plain hospital room. Tom, head 



29 



bandaged and resting, on cot right. Ethel as Red Cross 
nurse, watching by his side. 

Tom — (Is restless and calls^: Ethel! Ethel! 

E. — (Stroking his hair.) Yes, Tom, I am here. 

Tom — (Glaring at her.) Who are you? I want Ethel. 

E. — O, Tom, look at me. I am Ethel. Don't you know me, 
dear ? 

Tom — You don't look like my Ethel. (Rests.) 

E — Now, that is a good boy. Close your eyes and sleep. 

Tom — Sleep ! There is no sleep. There is only the roar 
of cannon and bursting shell. (Rising on elbow and pointing 
left.) Can't you see those great billows of surging human- 
ity — O, how they reek with blood ! Can't you see them ? 
Can't you smell them? Can't you hear the deadly tattoo of 
bullets on our breasts? Look here at our feet, at these blood- 
clotted lips so deathly still in this awful den of hell — above 
the cannon's roar they call to me "On, on, on and over the 
top." (Fiendishly.) Aha, haha, haha, haha. . . . Look 
—my flag is down. Give me my sword, I will cut his in- 
famous head off. No man can cut the staff of my standard 
and live. Ah, there is a brave lad. He lifts it up. Higher, 
higher, higher, to the skies. Now, men, on follow the flag. 
No matter if you die, the flag must live. 

E. — O. Tom, dear, can't you understand me? Your flag is 
not down. All the world stands at salute before your flag 
today. It has won, Tom, and you helped to carry it over 
the top. 

Tom — You are telling me a German lie. 

E. — No. dear, I am telling you God's glorious truth. Please 
be quiet. You will open your wound. 

Tom — Wound ! Ha, ha, ha. I'm not wounded. I wish I 
were. Then I could boast of a Liberty scar. (Enter Dabney, 
left.) Look! Look! There he comes. (Ethel motions 
Dabney back.) Steady men, steady! Wait until you can see 
the snarl on his face. Now send him to hell. (Laugh fiend- 
ishly. Dabney backing to L.) Where is the enemy that 
boasted he could lick the world. Gone. Gone forever from 
the earth, unsung and unmourned, and into the face of his 
God without a plea for mercy. (Falls back exhausted.) 

E. — (Pouring few drops from bottle into glass of water.) 
Here, won't you take this for me? 

Tom — No, it is poison. I will not take it. Get out of my 
sight. 

E. — O, Tom, please. .-—"^ 

D. — Tell him the General said take it. 

Tom — If my commanding general says for me to take 
poison, let me have it. (Reaches for glass and drinks. Then 
salutes Ethel.) Thank you. General. (Lies down.) I am 
better now. As soon as I have had a little rest I will go 
over the top. (Sits in bed and salutes.) If you say so, Gen- 
eral, I will go now. 

E. — O, Dabney, what must I do? 

D. — He thinks you are the General. Command him to lie 
down. 

/i.— (Commandinoly.) Sir, lie down and rest. 



Tom — (Salutes.) AH right, General. (Lies down and is 
quiet.) 

E. — (Stroking his hair.) Dear old Tom! Bereft of reason, 
and doomed to die. O, God, he has given all for Thee, please 
dear Lord, give him back to me: At least long enough for 
him to understand that his flag is not down, but that it has 
conquered, and is today flashing its glad tidings of peace to 
all the world. (Turning to Dabney.) O Dabney, it is good 
of you to come to me in this awful hour. Please do not 
leave me. I would be so alone if Tom should die. 

D. — You dear girl. There is no danger of that. The head 
surgeon says he is perfectly safe. 

E. — Perfectly safe, when he is demented? 

D. — (Smiling.) He is not demented. It is nothing but 
the delirium of fever, and the recollections of the awful hell 
he has led his men through. You have seen thousands in 
his condition. 

E. — But they were not my brave husband. 

D. — And for that reason some of them did not have as 
good a chance to recover. I have just received a message 
from father — 

E. — From father ! 

D. — Yes. He and mother and Lillian have arrived in Paris 
and are making arrangements to move Tom there and give 
him the best of attention. 

E. — O, my good father ! 

D. — Tom shall want for nothing. And while the terms 
of peace are being arranged we shall all stand by your side 
and help you nurse him back to life and reason, that he may 
understand fully, and enjoy the blessings he has so nobly 
helped to bring to the world. Now you run along and take 
some rest. You need it. I will call you if anything hap- 
pens. 

E. — How long can you stay? 

D. — As long as Colonel Tom Bradley needs me. Go and 
rest, Ethel, and dream of the greatest victory the world has 
ever seen. 



CURTAIN. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE ;J: Plain room, in Paris. One month later. Tom 
seated center reading book. 

I).— (L.) Still feeling good, Tom? 

T. — I am feeling bully, thank you, Dabney. Only I am a 
bit homesick. 

D. — Then you spoke the truth for both of us. (Sits.) But 
I have just returned from headquarters with a sure cure for 
that disease. 

T. — That can be nothing else than a trip home. 

D. — Exactly so. I hold in my pocket permission for us to 
go as soon as we please, and father has arranged the book- 
ing for Saterday. 



T. — For Saturday. (This calmiy.) 

D. — Why don't you shout? * 

T.—O, I am glad to go back home all riglit ; but to shout 
would not be fair to France. 

D. — Tom, you are always thinking ten leagues ahead of 
me. And my sober second thought of leaving France is not 
to shout; but rather to look about and see if there is any- 
thing else we can do for her. 

T. — You have done much, and France will not soon forget 
you. France never forgets. But I need not tell you that, or 
to extol your virtues. 

D. — Go as far as you like, old man. I am still human. I 
like praise. 

T. — You deserve all that has been given you, and that is 
much. All the badges and palms that have been awarded 
you were fairly and nobly won, and here is my hand. 

D.— Thanks, Colonel. Coming from a man who is every 
inch a hero, such a compliment pleases me far more ,tban 
these coveted badges ' I wear. I have done my best, Tom. 
and I am glad I could do it ; but so far as these badges are 
concerned I will gladly give them to you for that Liberty 
scar you wear. 

T. — 'Ha. I have a little scar, haven't I? 

D — Yes, and it is a badge of honor that holds the indelible 
pigment of your country's best love ; and it will endure long 
after these man-made crosses shall have been forgotten. 
Hang it all, why couldn't I get a scar? 

E. — (L.) An orderly to see you. Dabney. 

D. — Where is he? (Tom opens book.) 

£.— At the front. (Ex. D.— L. Ethel crossing to T.) 
Now, you naughty boy. Give me that book. The doctor 
said you must not read the fine print for a long, long time. 
(Lays book on table.) Every time I leave you you get into 
mischief, or do something you should not do. 

T. — Moral : Don't leave me. 

E. — (Standing behind chair, hands on his shoulders.) 
Haven't I stayed by you pretty closely? 

T. — Indeed you have, dear. Perhaps that is why I miss 
you so when you are away. 

Mrs. L. — (R.) Here they are, Lillian. 

L. — (R.) O, of course. Billing and cooing as usual. 
Ethel, you are spoiling Tom. 

E. — What of that? "to the victor belongs the spoils." 

D. — That is the idea, Ethel ; and I wish you would induce 
Lillian to practice a little of that Spoliation on me. 

L. — (Crossing.) All right, Dabney. How shall I begin? 

D. — What a woman does not know along that line, no man 
can teach her. 

Mn. L. — (L.) Well, I give it up. I can't find him any- 
where. 

Mrs. L. — We should never have brought him. 

Mr. L.— Why didn't you talk that way in New York? Then 
you said. "O, it would be such a treat for Neb. Let's take 
him." 

32 



D. — Don't worry, father. He is just like a cat. You can't 
lose him, 

Neh — (R. hat in hand. Stops and draws finger- across 
forehead and slings hand.) Golly, dis sho am er fas town. 
I ben out-runnin er bunch er motor cycles all er de atternoon, 

Mr. L. — Where have you been? 

Neh — Whar aint I ben? I stahted at de Shanks uf Euly- 
sees, en wound up wid a grand march thu de plaza uf tin 
cans. 

D. — (Laughing.) I will telephone the police the lost is 
found. (Ex. L.) 

Neh — Yes. Tell 'm ter call off dey war dogs. Peace am 
declared. 

Mr. L. — I have the entire police force of Paris looking 
for you. 

Neh — Wall, done I know 't? 

Mr. L. — And I offered a hundred dollar reward for you. 

Neh — Er hundred dollars ! Am dat de stake we wus 
runnin fur? 

L. — Yes, and you get the reward. 

Neb — Miss Lillian, ef it Avant fur you dis household 'd sho 
be bankrupt. (Enter D. — L.) 

Mrs. L. — Tell us some of your experiences. 

Neb — Wall, missus, it all happened so fa§ dat I disremem- 
ber purty nigh all de impahtent events. But yer see, bein's 
we leavin purty soon I cided I'd see some er de sights. But 
I hadn't gone fur when one er dem Paris Policemens frisked 
up ter me en said (Holds palms of hands in front of waist, 
and to audience, shoulders shrugged) : "See-see-see — la-la-la 
— poo-poo-poo — bong-bonb-bong." I ot ter er run rat den — 
but bout dat time I membered dat I knowed some furreign 
language whut I got fum Care-line, when I wus out West 
wid Massar Dabney, en so I put on er broad smile en said : 
"Du bist ein SPECKELED dutchman." En, lawd-er-mighty 
folks — believe me business picked up — en so did I — Massar 
Dabney, I sho did feel de need uf Betsy Ross. 

D. — I advise you to remain close to the shore from now 
on, and refrain from calling Erenchmen speckeled Dutch- 
men. 
__Neb — Dat's my idea erbout it. 

Mr. L. — Well, Lillian, if you and Dabney wish to return 
with us you must hurry over to Berlin. 

Mrs .L.— To Berlin! What is that for? 

Mr. L. — I understand they have a little sentiment about 
going there — and you know Lillian, if she wants to go to 
Berlin, she will go or bust. 

L. — No, I have changed my mind. I just wanted to know 
that I could go. But now that the way is open to an Amer- 
ican citizen to go where he pleases, and if it suits Dabney 
to be married in New York, I choose to go home at once. 

Z> — Good old America is good enough for me. 
Mr. L. — (Advancing to Tom's chair.) And how about you, 
my boy? Are you ready to go home? 

T. — As soon as the peace terms are signed. 

33 



D. — The)' were signed this morning, and appear in the aft- 
ernoon paper. 

Mr. L.— Where is the papei»? 

Neh — (Taking paper from pocket.) I stopped long ernuf 
ter buy one ; but I caint read her. It seems ter me dat de 
pressman failed ter git er focus on it. (Hands paper to 
Mr. L.) 

Mr. L. — Here, Lillian, it is in French. You will have to 
read it. 

L. — (Center, back of Tom's chair. Others grouped around 
her. Neb extreme right, and quiet.) "The protocol of 
peace." Here it is. 

D. — Just skip all the preliminaries and get down to the 
terms. 

L. — (Scanning down column.) "Japan gets — " 

D. — Never mind Japan, and Italy and Servia and Rou- 
mania. Skip on down to France. What does she get? 

L — France, France, France — Here it is. France gets Al- 
sace-Loraine and suitable indemnity — 

Tom — And immortal glory. Now for Belgium. 

L. — Poor Belgium gets her freedom and — 

D. — Of course she gets her FREEDOM. Germany gets 
that much. How much INDEMNITY does she get? 

L. — Wait a minute. (Enumerates.) Units, tens, hundreds, 
thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, mil- 
lions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions — What comes 
next? 

Mr. L — What comes next? 

L. — Yes, there are a whole string of them yet. 

Mrs. L. — That suits me. How about Russia? 

/.. — Russia BARELY gets by with— 

/). — W-a-i-t a minute. I object to any levity. 

L — Levity? 

D. — You should not say BARELY when speaking of Rus- 
sia. You should say — ah — ah — 

Neh — Scacely. 

L. — Well, then, Russia "scacely" gets her freedom, but 
Un^le Sam promises to help her more in the future. 

E. — That sounds just like Uncle Sam's will, doesn't it? 
What does England get? 

L. — O, she gets nothing, except a few little colonies. 

Neh — You don't sav. 

£>.— Wihat did Turkey get? 

Neh — I, I, I know dat'n. Turkey got it in de^ nake. 

L. — And here is something for Germany. 

Mrs. L. — O, I am so glad Uncle Sam didn't disinherit Ger- 
many. What did he give her? 

7..-^ONE MORE CHANCE TO BE GOOD.. AND— 

Mr. L.— AND what? 

L. — Sixty days to put up. 

Tom — Uncle Sam is a regular Old Santa Claus, isn't he? 
^Vhat does he get? 

L — (Throwing paper to floor, and with feeling.) The love 
and adoration and good will of the whole wide world, and 
the consciousness that God is pleased. 

, CURTAIN. 
(END.) 



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